If You Knew
by JTtheWarden
Summary: Mikey's finally found a human he can befriend, but she is far more different than he expected. Meanwhile, his brothers discover what he's been hiding from them and are at a loss as to what to do about it. Rated M to be safe.
1. Proficiency or Something Else?

"Damn Raph. Makin me go out durin the day just because I dropped my chucks. As if I couldn't find 'em tonight!" Michelangelo complained, fidgeting in the large trench coat. He readjusted his hat and headed for the alley between the ruins of Second Time Around and its left-hand neighbor. The sounds of a scuffle and a familiar, droning sort of noise made him slow his steps and he crept up to the alley, where he saw eleven or twelve members of the Foot clan combating with someone. The circle of fighters broke as two were hit by a pair of nunchaku, which seemed to be wielded by…, a woman? The growing dusk and the closeness of the buildings made it difficult for him to determine, but the slenderness of the figure and the higher-pitched voice made him more confident that the fighter was a woman. He watched, his hand resting on his second pair of nunchaku, wondering if he should help the girl out. His question was answered as he watched her use the nunchaku with considerable proficiency, though her style of fighting was quite different from his or his brothers'. She never seemed to use her left arm, or she was too fast for him to see her do so. There, too, was something odd about the weapon she used, and as he got silently closer, he realized what it was. The nunchaku were his! How she had come by them, he didn't know, and at the moment, he didn't care. One of the Foot slashed at the girl with a katana, and lightning-quick she wrapped the nunchaku around it and pulled it from her antagonist. She lobbed the katana straight up in the air and tucked the nunchaku into her belt, then caught the katana and with a swiftness that he attributed to something only his family possessed, sliced at the nearest Foot soldiers, effectively cutting four of them into halves. The rest scattered into the shadows, leaving behind a heavily gasping girl and an amazed Michelangelo, who slowly understood that all he had witnessed the girl do, she had done with her right arm, and only her right arm.

"Hey, tall, dark, and hulking- you want somethin'?" she asked, in a voice that was punctuated with attempts to control her breathing. She brandished the katana at him and he grinned.

"My nunchaku, for one," he said, moving closer to her. His eyes adjusted to the shadows, and he looked the girl up and down, lazily, enjoying her tense and alert expression. She clearly thought he was going to try something. Her eyes were hazel and glittered with exertion from her battle, and her reddish brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. She wore a dark green turtleneck and baggy, tan cargo pants; her feet were hidden in shadow. She was covered in cuts and bruises, and she bled from the more serious abrasions. "They're made from cherry wood; they have iron links and have orange cloth wrapped around the handles." She nodded, driving the katana into one of the dead bodies. He frowned and peered at her from beneath his orange bandanna. Something about her irked him, maybe it was the fact that the sleeve of her left arm hung oddly slack. She retrieved the nunchaku from her belt and handed them to him. She flinched when he shot out and grabbed them, not wanting her to see his hand.

"Here, maybe you'll remember not to leave 'em lying around in the street anymore. This lot," she indicated the body of a fallen Foot soldier by kicking it roughly," probably think I'm affiliated with ya because of me using 'em. Are you one of the Turtles they spoke of? Weird name if ya ask me." When Michelangelo opened his mouth, she held up a hand to stop him. "I don't wanna know, the less I know, the less reason they have to come after me." She turned to go, but he touched her shoulder to stop her.

"Actually, they'll come after you just because you killed four of their own. What I was gonna say is, how did you learn to fight like that? I thought me and my family were the only ninja around, not counting these guys." His eyes widened again, and he sighed. "Damn it!" he whispered, fearing he'd said too much. She didn't seem surprised.

"Self-taught. Any other questions, or do I need to tell you my life story so I can head on home?" he grinned.

"Yeah, just one more question. How come you only use your right arm? Ya got a prejudice? A preference? Or is it a quirk? Or... oh..." he silenced himself, feeling very embarrassed. He bit his tongue, something Donnie often told him to do. She had rolled up the sleeve of her left arm to reveal the complete lack of an arm. Where the arm should have been attached to the shoulder, there was nothing but white scar tissue. "I… I'm sorry, I mean… you just… you're..." he stammered. He found himself wildly thinking that Raph and the others would have loved to see him astounded this way.

"I'm a freak, ok? Just go ahead and say it, won't hurt me none." She had a sense of pent-up rage and irritation emanating from her, and he sensed something else, maybe, sadness? He couldn't really tell, but he couldn't help but smile sadly at her choice of words. He shook his head and sighed again.

"You're no freak, lady." He resisted the urge to throw his hat at the ground and prove her wrong. "You're far from being a freak. If I was sure you wouldn't scream, I'd show you exactly what it means to be a freak," he smirked without humor. He turned to leave but before he did so, he could have sworn that there was an entirely different expression on the woman's face, one of… was it sympathy? He had taken no more than four steps, when her voice, strangely softened, caused him to once again freeze in his tracks.

"Is that why you've got the hat and trench?" she asked, and there was a quite different quality to her voice and the way he sensed her, almost like there was a totally different person standing there. It was this new warmth and sincerity to her voice that caused him to reply.

"Yeah..."

"I'll show you mine… if you show me yours," she said, gently. "And I promise not to scream." Her unspoken act of contrition touched him, and he turned back to her, then hesitated.

"I'm really not supposed to… I really shouldn't…" he said, but then he sighed. "But that wouldn't be fair to you," he acknowledged finally. Some of Leo's sense of honor was rubbing off on him, it seemed. He'd say it was about time. He privately admitted that he wanted to, wanted to share their secret. This girl seemed so… very much like him. A tough exterior, sheltering something tender beneath. She was a sort of turtle, too, it seemed. He found himself thinking these things, even though he figured that Leo or Donnie would have been the ones to think this type of stuff, as he slowly unbuttoned his trench coat. He mentally noted not to ever tell his brothers. "Here," he said, slowly, and nervously, removing his hat. "I'm the only freak in this alley, not you." 


	2. Don't Be So Angry

"Here," he said, slowly, and nervously, removing his hat. "I'm the only freak in this alley, not you."

"You're naked was my first thought," she said, grinning. "Then I thought, wait, he's a… turtle?" Her smile faded to replace a different look, one that showed not fear or revulsion, but fascination, and definite curiosity. "Where'd you come from?" she asked, and again demonstrating her speed, she was suddenly closer. She reached up to gently feel of his carapace, and he found this reaction so surprising that he couldn't move as she traced the pattern on his shell with slow, gentle fingers. "How did you get like this?" She circled him, and though his shell had no nerve endings in it, he imagined he could feel her soft touch, trailing across his back. It unsettled him, and he almost jumped out of his skin when he felt her light touch on his arm. He gazed at her as she hesitated a fraction of a second before placing a flat hand against his plastron. "It's… like muscle…You're a turtle in appearance, but you move with an agility that a normal plastron would prevent you from having…" Her eyes traveled from his chest to his face, and her hand halted, halfway between its journey. He swallowed the golf ball-size lump in his throat, and grasping what she was tentative about, he took her hand in his own, and placed it on his cheek. He could just barely see it from the corner of his eye, but he could make out several scars across her fingers. His eyes met hers intently for a moment, but he looked away as he saw the complete absence of fear or embarrassment in them. Most girls would have melted or been self-conscious had they been looking into his eyes, standing that close, with their hand on his face and his over theirs. "Who are you, really?" she asked, her voice having lowered itself automatically to adjust to the vastly different mood they found themselves in.

"I'm Michelangelo," he said, trying hard to show his nervousness. She was now tracing the contour of his jaw, and any second she would reach his mouth. True, he had no lips, but it was the thought that counted, right?

"I'm Andrienna," she said, and as though she had read his mind, she removed her hand from his face. He gave an inaudible sigh of relief. "Oh, I did not mean to be so rude!" she said, finally blushing. "Gomen nasai, I am so sorry!" she said, bowing formally.

"You know Japanese?" he asked, taken off guard. They both took subtle steps backwards, giving the other more space.

"Not very much. Enough to hold a small conversation if I bump into someone," she said, and laughed. "Which I do sometimes," she added.

"I bet your family gets confused when you start speaking Japanese, huh?" he said, then immediately wished he hadn't. Her eyes dimmed and he sensed that earlier sadness deepen.

"They… Were killed, almost eleven years ago. We… Were big on self-defense. But… They couldn't survive the endless attacks that had ambushed us. They were slaughtered… And it's my fault. I should've been able to protect them. I should've done something."

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I just…" She interrupted him.

"Put your foot in your mouth, as is probably your habit," she snapped, turning away. Her aura was distinctly darker now, more like Raphael. "Thanks for reminding me, ok?" Michelangelo scratched the back of his neck, confused. Had it really been that offensive, what he'd said?

"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to, Andrienna. I didn't know," he said, but once again she stopped him.

"No, Michelangelo, it is I who should apologize. What you said… Well, you couldn't possibly know… I was rude. I… Sometimes overreact to small things, and seem much angrier than is warranted. It's just that… It still hurts to think of them," she said, turning back to face him. "Gomen nasai…"

"Hey, don't worry. My… Buddy… is always angry, no matter what you do," he said. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to tell her about his family. He looked up at the sky and was startled to see that stars were winking in the pitch-black sky. "I… I'd better go; I was only supposed to be gone for a half-hour!" He slipped the trench coat back on and fastened it. He reached for his hat but she seized it first and proceeded for the open street. He caught up with her at the end of the alley.

"Will I… Will I ever see you again, Michelangelo?" Andrienna asked, turning the fedora over and over in her hand. He cocked his head to the side and thought a moment. He turned to her and feigned a sad expression, then winked at her and grinned widely.

"Of course," he said, eliciting a wide smile from her. "And one more thing, call me Mikey. Only strangers and my sensei call me Michelangelo. It's too informal for me. Well… See you around, Andrienna," he said, and she tugged the hat over his head.

"Call me Andy. I've always hated my name, as if my parents couldn't decide whether to call me Andrea or Adrian or Arianna. All of them excessively feminine, and if you haven't noticed…" she said, but he cut her off.

"Nah, you're not really a femme kind of girl. I mean, I don't know you very well, but you don't seem like the type to want to dress up with make-up and all that type of mess." He once again looked up at the sky. "I'm sorry, but I really have to go or I'll probably get to do about a hundred extra katas. If you ever want to see me again, or you need help or a friend or whatever, just call this… Call into a sewer," he checked himself again. He'd have to check with Splinter before he allowed her to call their number! Even then, he didn't want her to call their number. He wasn't the first one to the phone every time, and he didn't really want his brothers to talk to her without him being there. "I'll hear you. Things echo in the sewer. Take care of yourself, ok? I know you can," he said, and he slipped into the shadows and was gone. He watched her as she smiled, if a little sadly, and unrolled her left sleeve. She pulled her shirt down, peered in both directions, and silently stole away, as he had done. He sighed, comfortably, then climbed down the manhole and off to the abandoned subway station they had stolen -borrowed, to hear Raphael tell it- for their home.

"Hey, Mikey! About time, we thought you'd gotten lost!" Donatello said from his writing desk in the far corner, as Michelangelo opened the door. "Thought we'd have to send a search party after ya!"

"What'd ya do, Mikey, stop ta chat?" his red-masked brother asked, smirking from the couch where he chewed on a Slim Jim.

"Yeah, dude, we almost finished off the pizza. Would've done it, too, if Master Splinter hadn't insisted," Leonardo interjected from his position on the floor, where he was playing solitaire.

"If you had not saved him any, you would have had to go and get more. You know I insist that you all share and share alike," their mentor said, from his revered seat under the ancient Japanese tapestry. It was a scene of peace, and always reminded them of Splinter.

"Well, Raph, you're mostly right. I met someone, a girl, who had my nunchaku. I had to persuade her to give them back- not like that!" he said, as his brothers jeered and sniggered.

"What'd' ya do to get her to return em, huh?" Raphael asked, laughing. "Can ya give us da details?"

"Very funny, guys," he said, dryly and mildly annoyed. "Perverts. Master Splinter, may I speak with you?" His brothers sobered almost instantly.

"Certainly, my son," Splinter nodded, and stood up with the briefest use of his walking stick. The turtles gave each other concerned looks; each of them seemed to say the same thing, that Splinter was. . . Dare they say it? Getting old? What would happen to them if he were to die? The moment passed as their rodential teacher led their youngest brother to his room with his old certainty and evenness. As the door to Splinter's quarters slid closed behind the young turtle, his brothers exchanged bewildered looks.

"Since when does Mikey just want to talk. . . Unless he needs something? But. . . No, he would've pleaded his case in here instead of just with Master Splinter," Donatello said, running a hand over his bald head.

"Dunno. Think its gat ta do wit dat gal he mentioned?" Raphael asked, removing the Slim Jim. The blue-banded turtle said nothing, merely looked thoughtful and concerned. "We'll just have ta keep an eye out then, huh, Fealess Leadah?" Leonardo nodded, then placed a red nine on a black ten and flipped the next card over. 


	3. More Than Meets the Eye

I feel the need to tell you that I do not own, nor claim to own, the TMNT. I wish this were not true, but that is my fate, to remain turtle-less. I'm very thankful for those who are reading this, and I have to admit that reibeauchaser's (sp?) story, Butterfly, was what made me decide to stop trying to create a female ninja turtle and just stick with human. Enjoy!

"What did you wish to speak with me about, my son?" the aging rat asked as he settled himself down onto the bamboo mat they used for talks such as this. His son stood for a nervous moment, then he, too, sat down.

"You… I mentioned a girl, just now…" he paused, frustrated with himself. Why couldn't he explain right? "Well… we became friends, sort of, and… I ended up…" he blushed. He felt distinctly ashamed for having disobeyed his master. When he spoke, however, Michelangelo was amazed to hear the lack of anger or disappointment in Splinter's voice.

"You showed her your true appearance, did you not?" he asked.

"Yes, master." Michelangelo inclined his head in acknowledgement. "You… aren't angry, sensei?"

"No, Michelangelo," he sighed. "I am merely resigned to the fact that I cannot prevent forever the merging of our world and the world outside. But enough of my thoughts. What, exactly, did you observe of her reaction when you revealed to her your true nature?"

"She wasn't sickened, freaked out, terrified, or anything like that. None of the usual reactions we get from humans who accidentally see us. She was…Curious. She was interested in me, in who I am. You could she that she thought I was cool. I was just kinda standing there, and she felt of my shell, my arm, my plastron, and…" he hesitated again, remembering the almost intimate moment they had shared, and resolutely decided not to share that particular tidbit of information with even his sensei. "And… she was asking all kinds of question about me, like who I was, how I'd gotten to be like this, where I came from, um… who I was, how I could be as fast as I was, stuff like that. She didn't ask if there were more like me, where I lived, and I didn't volunteer this information, either." Splinter was smiling inwardly at the enraptured expression on his youngest son's face, as though he had very much enjoyed his encounter with this irregular human.

"Very responsible. You say she was not afraid in the least?" he said, after thirty seconds.

"No, master," he said, and then paused again.

"There is more you wish to say?" the old rat asked, prompting his son. He nodded.

"Yes, master. She knows the Foot clan, and was fighting them when I came upon them. She was using my nunchaku… as well as I do. With only one arm. She also used a katana when a Foot soldier attacked her with it. She says she fights them sometimes, and she wasn't… well, I could tell she was getting used to it. She… Well… she said she lives alone since her family was killed…about eleven years ago. She seemed very sad."

"I have one more question, Michelangelo. Were you attracted to her?" Splinter had to restrain himself (which took considerable effort) from laughing at the startled and embarrassed expression on his son's face.

"What… excuse me, master?" he asked, completely taken off guard.

"It is imperative that you answer me, Michelangelo. Were you or were you not?" he insisted. His orange-clad charge sat in silent reflection for a moment, and then hesitantly spoke.

"Well, master… It's hard to determine. I only just met her, so I know next to nothing about her. There were times when it seemed possible, but other times she changed… and she acted and felt very much like Raph."

"Angry, violent, even? Rude?" Splinter asked, placing a paw upon his youngest son's arm. He nodded.

"Angry, rude, and she might've gotten violent if she had stayed angry. It was so very different from when we got along, that it seemed as though there were two Andies."

"Andies?" queried Splinter.

"Oh, her name is Andrienna, but she asked me to call her Andy. It was like there was two of her. One that was kind and apologetic if she even thought she was being impolite, and another, Raph-like Andy. It was… Strange…"

"Is there more you wish to tell me?" he asked, sensing the indecision from the young turtle.

"Yes… I was thinking that… She's a sort of turtle… I mean, when we first met, she was all challenging and on guard and stuff like that, but then she was friendly and stuff… and I was thinking that… well… she's all tough on the outside, but it shells something soft beneath, y'know, like a turtle…and… yeah…" He stopped, flustered. Splinter was smiling, thoroughly amused.

"I was not aware you possessed such insight, my son. I am impressed, though quite surprised. You are maturing in many ways, it seems," he said, patting his son's arm.

"About whether or not I like her, I'm not about to form an opinion or relationship based on a brief meeting. I mean, she could be completely different than I thought."

"Very wise, Michelangelo. I am proud of you. I must ask you not to bring her here as of yet. I must meditate and decide whether or not this is a permanent judgment. You may go, but I also must ask you not to tell your brothers what you have done. I daresay they will find out soon enough, though I do express my concerns on this matter. Please, ask one of your brothers to brew me a cup of tea," he said, squeezing his son's hand. Michelangelo bowed low and returned to the living room/ subway station.

"Hey, Leo, Master Splinter wants some tea," he said, as he picked up the box containing the leftover pizza. He strolled into the kitchen and opened the fridge, examining the contents. He settled on a Mountain Dew and closed the door again. As he was choosing his beverage, his three brothers exchanged looks that asked the same question: 'Should we ask him?' Raphael, raising an eye ridge, grinned and decided to do it though his older brother shook his head no.

"So, Mikey- what was she like, dat gal?" He asked, smirking. His wicked smile widened as his youngest brother froze in his tracks just outside of his room.

"Tough. A fighter. She sort of reminded me of you at times. She can use a deadly pair of nunchaku and an even more lethal katana. But she was also nice when she found out I wasn't there to harass her. She was pretty cool, I guess.

"How do you know she can fight?" Leonardo asked, as he added the tea bags to the boiling water.

"I saw her, genius. Look, guys, I'm hungry as hell, so can we hurry up this interview so I can go?" Michelangelo was worried of what they might ask him, what they might expect him to say. Information on his new friend wasn't something he was willing to give up.

"What'd she look like?" Donatello asked, setting down his gadget to look up at his orange-clad brother. Michelangelo frowned. He really didn't want to answer this question, but was there a good reason not to?

"She was shorter than me, had freckles and hazel eyes, and long brownish red hair tied in a ponytail. She was fast, almost like us, and she was all scarred and bruised. She was wearing loose clothes, Raph, so before you ask, no, I do not know how curvy she was," he said, looking towards his door.

"One more question before ya go, dude- Do ya like her?" Raphael asked, obtaining a wince unseen from Michelangelo.

"I don't know," he said, honestly. "I really don't, Raph," he insisted, at his red-banded brother's skeptical look.

"Ya plan on see'n her again?" he asked, still smirking as he opened another Slim Jim. Michelangelo pondered this for a moment, then gave a small smile that none could see.

"Yeah. Yeah, Raph, I do," he said, before vanishing quickly into his room and shutting the door. The very audible click from his lock resounded like a drumbeat in the silent station.

"That was enlightening," Donatello said, dryly.

"Think Master Splinter'll allow it?" Leonardo asked, standing just outside his sensei's door with the cup of herbal tea.

"Doubt it," Donatello said, sadly. Raphael sighed.

"Poor kid."

Chapter three is done, yey me! I'm already writing chapter four. Let's hope I can make it that far. I usually cannot finish a story past chapter five. Oo 


End file.
